


and it's breaking over me

by thekaidonovskys



Series: After the Drift [12]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Mentions of past self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they fly back to Geneva, Newt sleeps half the trip. When he wakes, he looks across at Hermann who, unaware of his awareness, is staring down at his hands. He’s holding his keycard and slowly, carefully, running his fingers along the long lines, then twisting it to run them along the short. Then repeating. Over and over and over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it's breaking over me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted by Tumblr user thekaidonovskys

A lot more people have developed mental illnesses as a result of the war. 

Depression, panic attacks, post-traumatic stress disorder - all normal. Especially for those close to the action, those who risked their lives in some way. All Jaeger pilots were sent to therapy after the war and now, four months on, many are still going. 

Newt’s got his problems under control, or at least as much as he can. He’s got the quiet in his head, the one that sends him wild sometimes and into panic attacks, or leaves him so cold and empty. But he can handle them, knows how to work through and get better and okay. He’s had a few nightmares as well, but nothing that a 3am visit to Hermann’s room - who  _always_ takes him in and cares for him, no matter what - hasn’t fixed. So he’s okay. 

It’s Hermann who worries him.

Surprisingly, it’s not the history of self harm that Newt’s concerned about. He knows that Hermann only ever self harms when his self esteem takes a severe (and usually public) blow. His father was the main trigger and, now that he's mostly disappeared out of their lives, and since Hermann is a well-respected scientific mind, he's been doing really well on that front for a long time now. Newt still keeps an eye on it, knowing that sometimes triggers change, but that’s not the issue. 

What worries him is that he’s seen Hermann’s panic attacks.

They’ve been hidden so well over the past ten years, and even now Newt wouldn’t know if it weren’t for the Drift. Hermann knows when one’s coming on, when the anxiety edges him closer and closer to meltdown, and simply removes himself from a situation where he’s around people, running through a series of routine coping mechanisms until either the anxiety settles or he can’t starve it off anymore. And all it takes is one thing to begin winding him up closer to that breaking point, one little thing he can’t control or explain or fix. If it doesn’t go away in time, it sends Hermann over the edge. 

And Newt’s never known. Not once, not even in the most stressful of war situations. He’d always just thought that Hermann got exasperated with his company and left until he could tolerate him again. 

Newt hasn’t discussed it with Hermann, not quite sure how. But he knows the warning signs now and, when the next one comes (because sadly it is a case of when, not if), he’ll be ready.

He’s not letting Hermann deal with this alone anymore. 

***

It’s been an intense week. There’ve been some unusual movements around the spot where the breach had been located, and Hermann and Newt have both been pulled back in by the UN to offer their expertise. There’s pressure and arguing and Hermann and Newt bickering far more in one day than they have at all in the past six months. Everything’s falling apart and fracturing and thank god it only takes a few days until Hermann and Newt finally convince them to recommission one of the Jaegers and send it down to  _just take a fucking look._

In the end, it’s a false alarm. There’s been movement, but not the kind that indicates that the breach is opening, and while the scientists specifically studying the breach get to work on finding out what it  _is_ , panic settles and Newt and Hermann get sent back.

As they fly back to Geneva, Newt sleeps half the trip. When he wakes, he looks across at Hermann who, unaware of his awareness, is staring down at his hands. He’s holding his keycard and slowly, carefully, running his fingers along the long lines, then twisting it to run them along the short. Then repeating. Over and over and over.

His face is blank, and he’s breathing carefully. But at least he’s breathing. 

Newt lets him continue for the rest of the trip, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of Hermann’s breathing. It stays steady - unnaturally so - and Newt knows they’re not quite there yet, but they’re close.

He also knows what comes next.

They return to the lab, Newt fielding a few questions from their coworkers then politely begging off, promising the whole story in the morning. They’re jet lagged and out of sync and Hermann’s gone even quieter and maybe it’s a little less polite to close the door and lock it behind them, but he’s got to think of Hermann right now. The others won’t mind (they’ll just presume they’re having sex).

Hermann carefully puts his files away at his desk, every movement precise and focused. Then, instead of sitting down, he checks the time. “I might call it an evening,” he says. “I’m feeling extremely tired, so perhaps I might join you in your bed tomorrow, but for tonight I’d like to be alone.”

“No.”

Hermann starts, then blinks a couple of times as he looks up. “I’m sorry?”

Newt understands the confusion - he never usually argues if Hermann needs some time to himself. This is different though. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he says, keeping eye contact. “But I know what’s going on and I’m actually not down with letting you go off on your own right now.”

Hermann holds his gaze for a few long beats, then shakes his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking -“

“Okay, no, look,” Newt interrupts wearily, trying to keep his tone gentle. “I get that you don’t like what’s going on and you probably really don’t want to talk about it and that’s all cool but  _please_ don’t lie to me. You know I know, and if I need to put it out there then here: you’re on the verge of an anxiety attack. And I know it’s awful and you’re trying really hard to keep it together right now and you want to run away but I don’t want you to, Herm. I really don’t. Not unless it’s going to freak you out more staying with me, which I hope it doesn’t. But if it does, that’s okay. Just… do what you need to, but don’t run away from me if it’s just because you’re afraid of my reaction or some shit like that because I love you and I want to look after you and that was one hell of a speech, I’m really sorry.”

Hermann actually smiles a little, even as his hands begin to twist methodically around the head of his cane. Newt watches the speed carefully. “That was. And I should have known, of course you would know. I’m just so used to keeping it a secret, so used to hiding it, not wanting to make it a public affair or make a fool of myself or -“

“Hey, breathe,” Newt says, and crosses the room to pull out Hermann’s chair away from his desk. “Sit down, okay?”

Hermann does, still keeping hold of his cane. His hands have begun to speed up and his movements are jerkier, as is his tone. “I detest this part of me,” he says, staring down at his cane. “I hate that I can’t control it, that it controls me.”

Newt takes a couple of steps back and crouches down in front of him, keeping enough distance that he’s not imposing. “It’s okay,” he says carefully. “Really. I know it’s wild and scary right now but it will settle. Just try to keep your breathing nice and calm. Edge it off.”

“I don’t think I can.”

And Newt knows he’s right - this is going to hit soon, and hard. “That’s okay,” he says. “Whatever happens, it’s all going to be okay, just try to breathe and don’t let the panic consume you -“

He knows he’s said the wrong word when Hermann’s cane clatters to the ground. Newt swears under his breath, watching helplessly as Hermann covers his face with shaking hands, then scrubs them through his hair. His breaths are coming short and sharp and the panic’s hit. “Fuck fuck  _fuck_ ,” Hermann whispers, and then curls in on himself, still running his fingers furiously through his hair, now tugging at it sharply too. 

Newt’s so unsure of what to do, he feels like he’s about to panic himself. But he can’t, knows he can’t, and controls himself. He’s had anxiety attacks of his own and tries to think of what words permeate his brain when he’s like that. “Hermann,” he says gently, but firmly enough that Hermann hopefully hears. “It’s okay, it’s going to be alright. You’re having an anxiety attack,” because knowing what’s going on sometimes helps him focus, and it might do the same for Hermann “but it’s going to pass, you’ll be able to calm down really soon, I promise, just try to stay with me and keep breathing. Try to take a deep breath and push the fear away. You’re safe, I’m here, I’ve got you, nothing’s going to hurt you, I  _promise._ ”

He keeps a steady stream of words going, watching anxiously as Hermann tries to calm himself down. Newt knows it’s a horrible horrible task, knows that the fear just keeps coming back and knocking you down, but he also knows that Hermann can beat it. So he keeps reminding him to breathe, and at some point it must work because Hermann raises a hand to stop him talking. “I need to… need to hear you breathing,” he says.

Newt understands and draws slightly closer, silencing his train of words. He begins to breathe slowly, carefully, and even more slowly and carefully Hermann begins to do the same. It takes awhile, and occasionally Newt sees the fear catch him again and push him back towards hyperventilating or stopping breathing completely, but Newt just keeps calm, keeps giving what Hermann needs. 

Hermann settles after awhile. The anxiety isn’t gone, of course, not completely, and won’t be until Hermann’s had some time to relax and make his mind aware that the panic is over and everything’s okay, but for now he’s at least calmer. Newt, well aware that he’s still too close to that edge, especially since anxiety attacks like to fall on the heels of one another, stays quiet and waits for Hermann to indicate what he needs next. 

Finally, Hermann looks up. His eyes are red and bloodshot, his face pale and hair a wild mess. “Could you… come closer?” he asks.

“I can be as close as you need,” Newt says quietly. He stands up and retrieves his chair, pulling it over so it’s in front of Hermann’s and sitting down across from him. “Anything you need that I can give, I’m going to.”

Hermann makes a sound Newt can’t quite comprehend, then reaches out to pull him close. In fact, he pulls him so close that, before Newt really knows how, Hermann’s in his lap, curled right in against him tight. He’s trembling still and Newt wraps his arms around him gently, cupping one hand to the back of Hermann’s neck while the other rubs his back. Hermann exhales shakily then noticeably relaxes. “You are too good to me,” he murmurs into Newt’s shoulder.

“Shh. I’m not even close to being as good as you deserve, but I’m gonna try. Do you want to talk; or maybe want me to talk?”

Because he knows silence is often the enemy, or at least the open door through which bad thoughts reemerge. Sure enough, Hermann nods. “Can you talk about… anything? But good things.”

Newt thinks for a second, then smiles. “I know you have the memory already, but want to hear about the time I was seven and managed to sneak into my cousin’s chemistry class and hide in the closet in the back so I could listen?”

“I would enjoy nothing more.”

So Newt tells him, elaborating on all the details to stretch it out as long as possible. Then he talks about his sixth birthday party, how his parents had made up a treasure hunt and sent all the kids out and they’d all returned to claim their prizes within the hour except Newt. With all their searches failing, Newt’s mother was set to call the police, ran up to her bedroom to find a photo of him to circulate and found her son sitting in the corner of her room, book in hand. His response to her questions had been that the clues were painfully obvious, he’d found the ‘treasure’ within three minutes and was now passing the time in much more meaningful ways. 

“I don’t blame you,” Hermann says, and there’s a smile in his tone. “Back when people thought I needed to socialize with peers my own age, I spent many a birthday party helping their older siblings with physics homework. Those were the highlights of my childhood.”

“Mm, mine too.” Newt considers Hermann for a moment, then decides he’s probably calm enough to come back to the present. “Feeling better?”

“Much. It’s still there, in the back of my mind, but I may be able to sleep it off.”

“Do you still want to sleep alone?”

Hermann shakes his head. “I don’t want to be alone at all. Never did.”

“Then you don’t have to be.”

Hermann pulls away enough to look at him. His eyes are still red, but there’s more colour to his complexion and he looks far more relaxed. He’s still a picture to break the hearts of even the sternest of people and Newt, a huge softie, can barely handle how vulnerable he looks. “I’m sorry for trying to push you away,” he says.

“Don’t be. I get it, it’s a horrible thing and you really don’t want to be seen by others in that kind of position. I just hope I helped.”

“You did,” Hermann assures him. “Very much. I’m grateful to you, my love.”

Newt smiles. “And I’m proud of you,” he returns. “Want to go to bed?”

Hermann nods, but doesn’t move. “I confess I may not have the energy to get there.”

“Easily fixed.” Newt gets Hermann back to his own chair then stands, gathering up what they need to take back to their room. He gives Hermann his cane then, instead of helping him to his feet, gently scoops Hermann into his arms. “People are gonna stare anyway,” he says when Hermann squawks in protest. “You look like death, babe.”

“Thanks so much,” Hermann says, rolling his eyes. “I can always rely on you for a self esteem boost.” But he settles anyway, allowing Newt to carry him out of the lab. “Can I at least pretend to be asleep?”

“Sure.”

And naturally, the first person they come across takes one look at them and flips out, thinking Hermann’s unconscious. Hermann keeps his eyes open after that. 

***

With the lights out and Newt curled around Hermann gently, he feels the last of the tension melt away. “I love you, you know,” Hermann murmurs. “A whole lot - but more than that, even. Just… heaps.”

“That sounds like something I’d say. Am I rubbing off on you?”

“Not tonight. Too tired.”

Newt chokes back a laugh. “ _Hermann!”_

Hermann kisses him silent. It’s calm and peaceful, and when Hermann falls asleep ten minutes later, Newt knows his job is done. 

The anxiety’s going to come back, of course. It always does; there’s always a crisis, after all. But at least Newt knows he can help, and Hermann knows he’s safe. 

With those two facts sorted, they can face just about anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Hermann's anxiety attacks are based on how mine feel. I gave Newt my winding down and Hermann my winding up and together they help me feel better about myself.
> 
> Title from "Never Let Me Go".


End file.
